


Curtain Call

by Swimly (Pandsiper)



Category: Long Exposure (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, School Play AU, Slow Burn, The Trials Of Robin Hood, tags added as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-02-21 22:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13153329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandsiper/pseuds/Swimly
Summary: In the trials to decide the fate of the bandit outlaw Robin Hood, Prince John is the primary voice against the rogue. But condemning Robin Hood becomes more difficult when you're in love with him.Jonas and Mitch are cast in the school play in roles that, in Jonas' mind, aptly suit their feelings toward each other. But before long, The Trials of Robin Hood sway Jonas' thinking on his own, real life outlaw.





	1. Casting Call

**Author's Note:**

> Started this on a whim after a discussion in the Long Exposure discord. Hasn't been beta read, so if you see any mistakes, holla at ya boi.

Jonas was out the door and skating to Sellwood before Sidney even had her shoes on. It was casting day for The Trials Of Robin Hood and he needed to know that his weeks of practicing for his audition weren't in vain.

He burst through the doors of the school so early there were barely any students around. The halls were still and echoey as he jogged to the theater. Posted on the door outside was a list.

There was his name, Jonas Wagner, right across from Prince John. He'd done it. His practice paid off.

The role was a difficult one for someone as timid and soft-spoken as Jonas, which is precisely why he'd chosen it. It was his senior year of high school and every other role he'd played in theater had always simply been an extension of his personality. But if he was going to go to college for theater, he needed to know how to perform outside his comfort zone.

Jonas scanned the list to see who else had been casted.

Neil Beckham got the part of the king, which was obnoxious, but not surprising.

Lewis got the sheriff, which was cool.

Carmen was cast as Maid Marion. That was perfect for her.

And the lucky guy who would get to swoon over her was...

Mitch Mueller.

Mitch Mueller was Robin Hood. The lead role. Mitch. Mothefucking. Mueller.

Jonas was NOT looking forward to spending all of theater class and countless after school hours with his obsessively clingy bully. He briefly considered dropping out of the play. Briefly. But there was no choice. It was either deal with Mitch Mueller for this one school play, or give up on performing in his senior play the year before he starts college as a theater major.

He would nail this role, Mitch Mueller be damned.

"Hey, Spots! I thought I might find you here!"

Jonas groaned. He didn't even have to turn around to know who was walking towards him. "What do you want, Mitch?"

Mitch slung his arm over Jonas' shoulder and leaned in, eyeing the cast list. He smelled like weed.

"Same as you. Just came to see if I got my part. And would ya look at that! Ya boy is Robin Hood!" He grinned and smacked Jonas in the back of the head.

"Ow, jeez..." Jonas rubbed his head. "Why'd you tryout for Robin Hood? You'd be much more suited to a role that showcases what an asshole you are."

"Spots, I'm wounded," Mitch recoiled dramatically, "I am literally Robin Hood. I steal from rich jerkoffs all the time! Besides, it looks like my favorite nerd got the asshole role this time. I'm disappointed. I was hoping I'd get to see you in Maid Marion's getup."

He stepped entirely too close to Jonas as he spoke and it made Jonas' face hot. This guy had no concept of personal space. The bell rang, signaling the start of school, but Mitch made no move to leave.

"Don't you have a class to get to?" Jonas said as he shoved past Mitch.

"I'll see you in theater class, Spots. I'm looking forward to it."

Jonas didn't look back. The sinister tone in Mitch's voice gave away everything he'd see if he turned around.

Backing out of the play was beginning to look a lot more favorable.


	2. Between the Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while. I'll try to upload the next part sooner. Thanks for reading. :')

Ms. Lovelace handed out scripts with her usual theatrical flourish. "Alright everyone, I want you all to start memorizing your lines right away! We'll have our first rehearsal in one week!" She gestured toward the class with long, sweeping movements. Jonas flipped through the script, noting all the lines labeled 'Prince.' There were plenty. More than Jonas had ever had in a play.

"Until then," Ms. Lovelace continued, "all class time is to be spent practicing. I recommend buddying up with someone who you'll frequently have to interact with." At this, she looked directly at Mitch, who'd situated himself needlessly close to Jonas and who was scraping at the undersides of his nails with the edge of his pocket knife.

"In fact, our Robin Hood, Mitchell, is new to theater. You were fabulous in your audition, dear, but we don't want you cracking under pressure!" She smiled softly as if she wasn't speaking at the hellish young man who ran Sellwood High. "So, I'm going to pair you up with Jonas."

"What?!" Jonas nearly shouted. How could Lovelace do this to him? Did three years of service dedicated to the cause of excellent theatrical performance mean nothing to her? How could she make Mitch his practice partner?

Mitch perked up and leaned even closer to Jonas, "Oh, HELL yeah." He hissed, his toothy grin likening him to a shark in bloodied water.

"Jonas, I know you prefer to work alone, but you're one of my best students! I couldn't ask for a better mentor for Mitchell. If he hadn't performed the part of Robin Hood so beautifully, I'd have cast him elsewhere and it wouldn't be a big deal. But as it happens, Mitchell IS our Robin Hood, and there is no one better to prepare him for the stage than you." Ms. Lovelace's tone was kind, but firm. The discussion was over. The decision was made.

Jonas determined this had to be cruel and unusual punishment for some crime he didn't commit. Trials of Robin Hood? To hell with that! Jonas demanded the Trials of Jonas Wagner to prove he was innocent of whatever heinous crime warranted the punishment of being tied to Mitch Mueller for a whole semester.

He was not ready for this.

The last bell rang and Jonas left the theater classroom as quickly as possible. Yet, he wasn't three feet out the front door of the school before Mitch was practically breathing down his neck.

"Hey, Spots. Wanna come back to my place and practice our lines?"

The devilish tone in his voice sent a shiver down Jonas' spine as Mitch made his way to walk in stride with him. He tried his best to shake off his nervousness, "No, Mitch, I want to go home." His voice cracked and Mitch smiled even wider at the pitch change and Jonas could've swore Mitch's ears went a little red.

"Cool. We can practice at your place."

Jonas froze. "What? No! Why would you want-? Ugh, just go home, Mitch." He lifted his skateboard, ready to speed off, but Mitch spun around, placing himself firmly between Jonas and the joyous freedom of open sidewalk.

"You heard Ms. Drama Club. We got rehearsal in a week, and she's counting on you to help me out." His teeth were bared and Jonas wondered absently if Mitch's face ever hurt from grinning so fucking hard. "You don't want to let her down, do ya, Spots?"

"Ugh, fine." Jonas shoved past Mitch and took out his phone to text Sydney. "But we're not going to your house and you CANNOT come to my house."

 _'Got stuck helping Mitch with his lines for ToRH. I'll be home by dinner.'_ He hit send.

"Then where do you propose we go, genius?"

Jonas sighed. "I know a place."

Sydney would kill him if she ever found out he was sharing their secret spot with Mitch Mueller. But there was no alternative. It was this or Mitch's house,and Jonas was not ready to go behind enemy lines. His phone pinged.

_Syd: 'Oh god. Be safe, little brother. Text me if you need his ass kicked.'_

Jonas sighed again and resettled his baseball cap. Mitch leaned over his shoulder just in time for him to lock his phone and pocket it.

"Lead the way, Prince Spots." Jonas couldn't quite place the sickly, familiar smell on Mitch's breath as he crooned.

* * *

 

The two of them had been laboring through the script for an hour and a half when Jonas sighed and stopped Mitch mid-sentence. "Why are you even IN this play, dude? You've never been in a play before, and as far as I can tell from the way you're reading your lines, you couldn't act your way out of a wet paper bag."

Mitch scowled. "I can fuckin' act, Spots. I just ain't feelin' it right now."

"You're the one who wanted to practice together. You could've just gone home." Jonas crossed his arms and looked out to the horizon. The tree they were sitting under was perched high on a cliff that looked out on the ocean. The sun was beginning to set, giving the water a warm, orange glow. It was a breathtaking view. Jonas turned back to the task at hand, mouth open to speak, but stopped.

Mitch was turned away, elbows propped on his knees, head tucked down. He looked a little pale. Jonas was so used to seeing Mitch as the devil of Sellwood; the tall, toothy, knife wielding, nerd punching heathen. It was strange, no, bizarre to see him sitting under the shade of a pine tree in the light of the setting sun, looking vulnerable- sad, even.

"So, how did you get the role?" Jonas asked.

"Huh?" Mitch looked up, startled, as if he'd forgotten he wasn't alone.

"Lovelace is enamored with you. And she's never given a lead role to a newbie before. But now, it seems like you can't act at all. What did you do in your audition to impress her so much?" Jonas was genuinely curious, but he also was uncomfortable with how depressed Mitch seemed. The last time Mitch had appeared this vulnerable, they were little kids and it was the start of Mitch bullying the absolute shit out of Jonas.

"Oh," Mitch looked away, "that- uh... I did a monologue from a different Robin Hood play."

"Which one?"

"Uh- shit, what was it called...? The Kinda True Story of Robin Hood or something. It was the part where he was pissed off about Marion getting engaged to the sheriff or whatever."

Jonas was intrigued. The monologue Mitch was talking about was one that was meant to be performed incredibly over-dramatically, and with a hint of dispelling the fourth wall. Deadpool came to mind. "Do it."

"W-what?" Mitch's face actually went red.

"Perform it for me. Right now." Jonas had to see this. Mitch certainly had the energy and personality for a monologue like that, but he struggled to imagine Mitch as lovesick as Robin Hood needed to be to portray the moment properly.

"I can't." Mitch said plainly.

Jonas scoffed, "If you can't perform in front of me, how are you going to perform in front of hundreds?"

"It's not that. I performed it different from the actual lines."

"So you put your own spin on it? That's fine. Show me your version."

"I can't, Spots."

"Why not?" Jonas was getting irritated. Why did Mitch insist on practicing lines with him if he wasn't actually going to practice lines? This was a waste of time.

"Fine." Mitch said finally. "I'll do it."

Jonas leaned back against the tree, crossed his arms again, and waited.

Mitch stood up, popped his neck, and exhaled a deep breath.

"Oh, merry men, merry men! My heart's fucked up! It feels like shit. You're lookin' at a dude who's brightest light has been put out by a dark blanket of fucking bullshit..."

Jonas stifled his laughter. This was certainly the right monologue, but was HEAVILY Mitch-ified. That aside, the right feelings were coming across. Mitch sounded genuinely upset.

"There's nothing left for me but dealing with this depressing ass shit. I'm standing here, a guy suffering from the pain of unrequited love. There's no fuckin' words for how fucked up this is, my dudes, except... I'm fuckin' hurt. I'm sure you're shocked. Cool motherfuckers like me don't feel pain, I know. But today, I'm hurt..." He stopped, opened his mouth, closed it again, sighed and scratched at his undercut.

"Go on," Jonas coaxed, "your true love, Maid Marion, right?" Jonas thought perhaps Mitch had drawn a blank on his lines.

"I can't. I did it different after that, changed a lot more of it." Mitch's ears went pink again.

"You mean more than swearing every other word?" Jonas smirked.

"Yeah, actually... And I ain't performing that part, okay?" Mitch frowned and looked away.

"Fine. But honestly, aside from the swearing, you're good when you want to be. Robin Hood good? Maybe not. But good."

Mitch rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, Ms. Drama Club gave me the part on the condition that I don't swear."

"Good." Jonas stood up and grabbed his skateboard. "I gotta head home for dinner. I'll see you in class." He turned and took off towards the road, leaving Mitch standing under the pine tree, looking almost as if he'd just found out his crush had gotten engaged to a criminal sheriff and he needed to vent to some merry men.


	3. Looking The Part

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was fueled largely by me feeling like shit about myself, soooo... Yeah.
> 
> Updating the rating and tags.
> 
> Um. Thanks for reading, I guess. If you like this shit show of a story, maybe leave me a comment or something? I thrive off the energy of others.
> 
> TW: eating disorder (bulimia)

Mitch slammed the bathroom door behind him. Robin Hood. How the fuck could he be Robin Hood? The mirror glared at him. He scowled in response and turned away. The tiles were cold under his feet as he paced in circles in the tiny room.

He dug his fingers into his hair, tugging at his undercut. It was getting too long. He shook off his jeans and t-shirt and looked at his legs. They were too pale. His thighs were too thick. If he wasn't careful and let his legs get too close together, his thighs could touch. He looked at his stomach. It was too soft. He grabbed at his skin. He could pinch it between his fingers. It was too much. He was too fat. He was pastey white, his knuckles and knees pink and split and dry.

Mitch looked in the mirror again. His cheekbones were too sharp, his facial hair too patchy, too uneven. His teeth too large, lips too thin and pale and chapped. He was far too ugly to be Robin Hood, he knew.

Robin Hood, in every iteration, was tan, handsome, toned, strong, with a charming smile and lustful eyes. Why in fucks name did he audition to be Robin Hood? Why did he choose, in his senior year of high school, to audition for a play when he'd never acted before in his life, and on top of that, audition for the lead role? Is this what he'd resorted to? Is this the level he'd stoop to to be close to somebody who fucking hated him? What was wrong with him?

Jonas Wagner, that's what.

Soft, dark, beautiful, curvy, freckly, nervous, awkward, perfect-in-every-way Jonas Wagner.

Admittedly, Mitch had thought his plan was solid; why keep sneaking into the back of the theater to watch Jonas perform when he could share the stage with him? The whole thing happened in a state of mania induced by a rare couple of days of being able to think himself better looking than he actually was. He'd burst into Lovelace's office after school one day, demanding the lead role, fully prepared with a monologue memorized.

Well, his version of it memorized. That flowery, Shakespeare-y language made him gag. He'd made it his own, including changing who his Robin Hood's love interest was.

_'My true love, Prince John, is lost to me forever. What the fuck is the point anymore? Soon, the love of my life will be married to that fuckin' uppity, frilly ass Maid Marion. And from that moment on, life will have no fuckin' meaning! Once they're married, they'll conspire to take over the whole country! The fuck are we supposed to do, men?'_

Mitch didn't think about how he'd have to perform in front of Jonas. He never got that far in his plan. As far as he was concerned, his plan was to get the lead role, spend after school time gazing at Jonas from across the room while he practiced his lines as prince of Nottingham, and then magically, he would be on stage with Jonas. His plan did not include an audience, and in truth, did not actually include him acting at all. He just wanted to stand on stage next to his prince.

But now, reality was crashing in around him. What did he think would happen when he asked Jonas to practice lines with him? Did he expect Jonas to inherently know that when Mitch said 'practice our lines' he actually meant 'make out a lot'? And even in the very unlikely scenario that Jonas did miraculously know this, did Mitch really expect him to be all for the idea?

Of fucking course not. When Mitch said he wanted to practice lines, Jonas rightfully expected to practice lines.

Now, practicing lines with Jonas meant being achingly close to him, trying to perform some sort of actual art form in front of him. Now, being the lead role meant knowing that in a couple of months he _would_ be on stage with Jonas... in tights and a tunic...pretending to be in love with some girl...pretending Jonas was a terrible criminal. All in front of an audience.

_In tights and a tunic._

Mitch looked at his stomach and thighs again, an all-consuming dread creeping up from the bottom of his stomach to the tops of his ears. Everyone would see every flaw. Every pound. Every fold of skin. Every ugly joint. He'd already puked once today, but it wasn't enough. There was still so much of his body he could rid himself of.

He had to be Robin Hood.

He crouched in front of the toilet and jabbed his fingers down his throat.

He had to be Robin Hood.

He stayed in the bathroom, retching and coughing until it was nothing but dry heaving- until there was nothing left in his body to get rid of and he found himself wanting to eat purely so he could have the satisfaction of getting rid of it again.

_He had to be Robin Hood._

* * *

 

Jonas quietly shut his bedroom door behind him. He collapsed on his bed and sighed. Finally, his muscles untensed and he let himself take a deep breath.

'Exhausted' didn't quite do his soul justice. There was such a weight on his shoulders each day, trying to balance school with his conflicting emotions, and that with his incredibly strict home life. The couple of brief hours after dinner when he could relax in his bedroom was the only time he could let go of the breath he held all day, every day. He could finally think.

Mitch Mueller.

Jonas rolled over on his back and looked up at his ceiling. Little glow in the dark stick-on stars remained from past occupants of the room. He briefly wondered if Mitch, back before they hated each other, was the kind of kid to have glow in the dark stars on his bedroom ceiling and leave them there no matter how old he was. The thought made Mitch seem much more human in Jonas' mind.

But so did the waning light of a sunset filtered through pine branches falling across his taught, pale skin.

So did the flush of his face when he was nervously acting out his version of Robin Hood.

So did the way he had watched Jonas leave, slack-jawed, arms limp, shoulders slouched.

Mitch was, after all, a human being. Unbelievable as that may be.

Why Mitch had suddenly decided to do theater was still beyond Jonas completely. All the guy cared about was beating up nerds and getting out of school work. He was not, in any way, a complicated person.

Right?

Jonas turned on his side and remembered the young, scrawny Mitch he had once been friends with. He remembered Mitch would show up with strange bruises he would try to hide with his shirt sleeves- and would dodge the question if Jonas ever brought it up.

And now, here was Mitch, all but grown and fresh from juvie after stabbing a man, looking to play Robin Hood in a school play. Maybe there was more to Mitch than Jonas had thought.

Oh, but that orange sunset light looked _beautiful_ on his arms and the back of his neck.

Mitch was all height and long limbs, thin legs and small waist, clean skin and the face of a young man. He was everything Jonas was not. He was everything Jonas wanted to be.

How did such an asshole end up with such an attractive body?

Jonas was not blind to the fact that he found guys attractive just as well as girls. What angered him was that it was Mitch who first made him realize that. He would lean just a little too close to Jonas, a strong hand would linger on his arm just a bit too long. The warm flush of Jonas' face would spread down his back and stomach and, more out of frustration than lust, Jonas would be spitefully taking care of himself in the locked bathroom after school, cursing himself for indulging these fantasies. Mitch was a bully.

Mitch was his bully.

Jonas hated acknowledging how much he enjoyed knowing Mitch lavished his brand of attention on Jonas almost exclusively. Like as if, in some sick and twisted way, Jonas had a kind of power over Mitch.

Mitch was his bully.

 _Son of a bitch._ Jonas buried his face in his pillow and groaned. He didn't want to have to share theater with Mitch. Why couldn't he have this one refuse from Mitch and the maddeningly complex emotions he brought with him?

_Mitch was his bully, and now Mitch was his Robin Hood, too._


End file.
